Friend of Mine
by 2ofacrime24
Summary: Set after Boyfriend, Harry and Ron face each other after their falling apart.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Friend of Mine  
**Author: **Drusilla Williams  
**Rating: **M/R+  
**Pairing: **Harry/Ron, Harry/Crossover and Implied Ron/Hermione  
**Warnings:** Angst  
**Summary: **Set after _Boyfriend_, Harry and Ron face each other after their falling apart.  
**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter. I make no profit from writing this. No copyright infringement intended.  
**Author's Note: **Over at livejournal at the community harryandron, every comment I received begged for a sequel to _Boyfriend _so here it is. A few quick notes. This is a bit of a crossover work as I took characters from Roswell and placed them in Harry's new life without Ron. This piece could be fine as a stand alone but you really should read Boyfriend first to understand what's happened.  
As usual, a song always inspires me, for this chapter, it's _Friend of Mine_ by Eve6. So props to them and enjoy the fic and REVIEW please.

* * *

**Friend of Mine**

_Friend of mine stay alive  
Don't you leave me here  
All alone in the world with a chronic tear  
I will always be here, I will always be here  
I will always be here for you_

Eve6 – Friend of Mine

**Chapter One**

Harry sat at the kitchen table, a new group of friends surrounding him, a smile on his face as he looked down at his cards, confident of his hand. He eyed the group around him, some shifting uncomfortably in their seats, others sporting the same grin that currently covered Harry's lips.

"Well," Monk started from Harry's right as he looked down at his cards, "I fold. There's no way I'll win with this hand." With that he placed his hand down on the table and began to fiddle with the few chips in front of him, his long dark hair falling in front of his face as if to hide him even though his large old fashioned glasses did it for him.

Fly who sat across from Monk grinned and picked up a few chips, throwing them into the growing pile in front of them. "Well, unlike our poker challenged friend, I'll call and raise you five." At this both George and Steve folded, slapping their cards down on the table and crossing their arms leaving Michael, Fly, and Harry with their cards in their hands.

Michael smirked easily, picking up the number of chips to call and adding five more chips to the pile after that. Harry nodded and fallowed suit, leaning back in his seat, totally relaxed and at ease with his surroundings. Fly raised his eyebrows over at Michael who sipped calmly at his Peach Snapple while Harry tapped his foot, feeling his wand shifting in his pocket.

Things had changed a lot since Ron left. Harry had a new job working as a security guard for a muggle cosmetic lab; the men that surrounded him, his new coworkers. He had picked up his life and started over, away from magic and away from Ron. Ron, who he hadn't seen since he had left. Ron, who he hadn't heard since that message from a year ago. Ron, who currently remained a good memory, kept in a shoebox stashed in his closet on the top shelf out of site.

The others didn't know about Harry's other life, or Ron. They didn't know much about Harry's past at all, much like they didn't know much about Michael's past who had joined them only two weeks ago, much like they didn't know about aliens or vampires or magic.

And as Fly, Michael, and Harry laid down their cards, Harry coming out on top yet again, Harry found that it was okay. Life was okay without Ron.

* * *

Catherine bounced in her highchair as Hermione dished out her daughter's food. The small brunette gave Hermione a rather toothy grin before she dug her hands into the spaghetti and began to eat. Ron watched on quietly, smiling at the small child who was only a little under a year old. The reason he had left Harry.

The child slurped at the noodles, the sauce covering the areas surrounding her mouth and her shin, slopping it onto the bib that was wrapped around her neck lightly. "Katy, your fork, use your fork!" Hermione cried softly, picking up the small, plastic, green fork and handing it to her daughter who hurled it at Ron with a giggle.

Ron caught the fork easily, his keeper skills coming in handy as he placed the fork on the table and turned to Hermione. "Let her eat with her hands, love. She's a baby, she'll learn to eat proper later," he stated grinning as he stood up and took a noodle from Catherine's bowl to eat.

"How's she going to learn when you encourage her? She's impressionable you know!" she said throwing her hands up in the air. "Harry wouldn't encourage her. If she had him around, she'd be eating with a fork and speaking words, and bubbling with magic!"

Ron, who had been crossing the kitchen to get a drink from the refrigerator halted at Harry's name and turned slowly, glaring at Hermione. "Don't mention him!"

"Why not? He's my friend too! And it's the truth!" she exclaimed, again trying to force the fork into Catherine's small hands. "It's been a year, Ron. A year since we've seen him or talked to him! He's our friend! Our best friend. Aren't you worried? What if something happened to him? I mean, ever since he left his job at the ministry-"

"Stop it Hermione! If you wanted to find him so bad, you could. You know you could," he growled as he pulled a Firewhiskey from the fridge and proceeded to take a drink from it. "Besides, if you love him so much, you should've asked him for help and not me."

Hermione crossed her arms, glaring at the red head as he looked away. "Well excuse me. I thought you would have loved to be in your child's life! I didn't ask you to leave him!"

"What else could I have done Hermione? Do you know how much that would have killed him? If he had known? If he knew?" he shot back after downing half of the bottle. Catherine threw the fork down yet again with a clatter and began to beat her small fists on the table, yelling "up!" until Ron set down his bottle and picked her up, bouncing her in his arms to keep her occupied.

"What do you mean if he knew? Are you telling me he doesn't know? Harry doesn't know about Catherine?" Hermione asked shocked. Ron shook his head, looking down at his daughter who laughed and grabbed at his long hair, pulling on it softly. "You never told him? I thought for sure, I thought that it was because he knew that he didn't- I mean, it was never like Harry to just stop talking to us, even I knew that was a far stretch, but, he doesn't know?" Again Ron nodded, looking away now, unable to meet either Hermione's or Catherine's eyes. "Oh Merlin Ron, what did you tell him?"

Ron sighed, handing Catherine to Hermione as he grabbed his Firewhiskey and finished the rest. Placing the bottle in the sink and pulling out another from the refrigerator before turning to leave. He paused at the balcony door and looked back at Hermione. "I didn't tell him anything. I packed my things and left. I packed my things, made love to him, and left," he whispered before walking out.

Hermione sank into a chair at the table and tightened her hold on Catherine, tears falling from her eyes as her daughter calmly wiped them away.

* * *

Michael tossed the tennis ball up in the air, catching it as he leaned back in his chair, Harry leaning forward on the desk, his chin resting on his crossed arms as he stared at the monitor in front of him. "Slow night, huh?" Michael said, looking at Harry from the corner of his eye. Harry nodded, yawning. "So what do you do when you're not at work or hanging out with us?"

Harry shrugged, keeping his eyes on the monitor as he thought of what he did. Sometimes he visited Hagrid at Hogwarts or went to Diagon Ally to stock up on potions that he kept in the house. He liked to go to Quidditch matches when he could get his hands on tickets and he still kept in contact with Neville from time to time. But otherwise he sat at home and watched the telly or read the Daily Prophet, scanning it for anything on the Weasleys or Hermione or anything war related where no doubt the wizarding world would call on the great Harry Potter to come out of his hiding place and fight for them.

But he wasn't about to tell Michael that. "You know, the usual, sit home and watch the telly, read the paper." Michael nodded as he sat the tennis ball down on the desk and nudged Harry with his elbow.

"If you need another job I could probably get you one at the Crashdown. It doesn't pay much but you get free food," he stated as he looked over at the monitors.

"You mean that diner that looks like it was picked up from Roswell and put in the middle of London?" Michael nodded, frowning slightly. "No thanks mate, I make enough doing this."

"You gotta be to afford your flat. Do you have an in with the head guy or something?" Michael laughed, looking at Harry with a genuine smile. Harry chuckled, shaking his head.

"No, my parents just made sure I was well off before they said hi to death," Harry stated nonchalant like. Michael nodded, shrugging.

"You got lucky. Don't even know my parents," Michael stated turning his attention away from Harry and back to the monitors which were images of empty halls. "Then again I don't think I'd want to know them. What if they ended up being some huge creeps? No thanks. I'm content being oblivious." Harry nodded, standing up and stretching his legs and arms before he grabbed the clipboard so they could do their rounds.

"Well, if it's getting to hard to rent your flat, you can come live with me. Merlin knows it gets lonely," Harry stated, not aware of what he had said as Michael gave him a look.

"You say the weirdest shit, you know that Potter?" Michael stated as he also stood up. Harry shrugged and grinned. "But you know what; I think I'll take you up on that offer."

Harry smiled, knowing that he'd have to try harder to hide his other life but it'd be worth it. Lately it had been getting pretty tempting to take down that shoebox.

* * *

Michael moved in a week later, his few items filling up most of the empty space in the apartment and Harry thought it felt like home again. And what was better was that Michael didn't ask questions, just like Harry didn't ask about the strange artifacts or the strange things that happened whenever Michael was around that couldn't be explained by something muggle or magic.

Life was returning to normalcy, more so than it had in a past year and Harry soon realized what he had been missing horribly, friendship. The boys were able to talk about mostly anything and they confided their secrets in each other frequently. It wasn't along before Michael found out Harry was gay and Harry wasn't surprised to see that it didn't bother Michael like it might of any of the other guys. It wasn't long until Harry found out that Michael love Tabasco sauce and almost everything he ate or drank.

And it wasn't long until they got closer to each other and Harry found out one other thing he had been missing horribly, love.

* * *

"That prat! That bloody fucking prat! I can't believe him! A year! He's been keeping that from us for a year!" Ron raged, pacing the kitchen angrily as he remembered Neville's horrorstruck face when Ron had advanced on him after finding out that Neville and Harry had been in contact. "And Harry! He kept in touch with _him_ and not _us_!"

Hermione rolled her eyes as he bounced Catherine on her leg from her seat. "Well you can't blame him can you? After what you did, after what we did. I think he has every right." Ron rounded on Hermione, the tip of his ears burning a bright red. "I hope you're not thinking about what I think you're thinking about. To walk into his life again after all this time would be a big mistake. And besides, from what Neville told us, Harry is happy. You of all people should at least want that for him."

"Of course I want that for him! But he should be happy with me damn it! Not some random muggle who he can't even tell everything too!" Hermione sighed, standing up, bouncing Catherine on her hip.

"That's not true. Plenty of witches and wizards marry muggles and stay married. Harry's happy Ron and you have no right to barge into his life and screw it up. Just let him go, Ron. He let you," she stated causing Ron to stop and think before he slumped into a chair at the table and stare blankly out in front of him. Hermione sighed and pushed his hair out of his face, smiling gently.

"It'll get better Ron, I promise. You just have to let go." Ron shook his head, his eyebrows creasing as he shoved himself away from the table and stood up.

"If he let me go than I want my god damned shirt back!" he growled, storming out of the house and slamming the door behind him, causing Catherine to give out a cry. Hermione groaned, patting Catherine's back and she whispered soothing words, praying to what ever higher power out there that her best friend wouldn't ruin her other best friend's life.

* * *

Harry cringed slightly as he shifted slightly on the bed, one hand gripping the mattress as his other gripped Michael's forearm. "You okay?" Michael grunted as he slowly pushed forward, spreading Harry's tight passage even more. Harry nodded, closing his eyes and taking a heavy breath. "Tell me if you want me to stop." Again, Harry nodded and let his head fall back as Michael entered Harry completely. "Alright, I'm all in," he gasped, closing his own eyes as he hovered over Harry. "Wrap your legs around me."

Harry nodded and did so, his body slowly but surely getting used to Michael's length and thickness. After a few moments, he squeezed Michael's hips with his legs, slowly moving his hips. "You can move now," he whispered, feeling Michael nod and then slowly pull out and push back in. Harry gripped Michael's wrists and bit his lip.

"Harry," Michael groaned, pressing his forehead against Harry's as his free hand wrapped around Harry's member, pleasuring him while continuing to thrust in and out, turning his hips to try and hit Harry's prostate. Finally after a few minuets, he was rewarded with Harry's wild gasp.

"Fuck, Michael." Michael twisted his hips again, pushing against Harry's prostate as Harry writhed and wriggled beneath him, his head thrown back in ecstasy, gasps and hot breath escaping his lips which were red and swollen. Michael picked up his pace, thrusting, pushing, pulling, twisting until he felt Harry tense in his arms.

Soon, Harry was spasming around Michael and Michael found himself coming within Harry. Harry came with a cry.

* * *

An hour later, Harry and Michael laid in bed next to each other, both sated and unwilling to move from their current positions, wrapped up in each other. Michael, who had never been very forth coming with his emotions, was content to lay in bed with Harry and cuddle, and Harry, who always had to be moving, was content to do just the same.

They knew that their relationship had changed, that they could probably never really get back to how they were before but they also knew that they weren't in love with each other. Both men already had someone to fill that spot in their heart, no matter how one sided it was. And both men were content to fill the emptiness that the other felt even if for a while.

They were silent, happy, but a loud crack from the living room threatened the warmth and sleep that was about to envelope both of them. Harry, who recognized the sound immediately went to sit up but was held down by Michael who pressed his palm against Harry's chest. "Stay," it was a command, a plea but Harry knew that who ever was dumb enough to apparate into his apartment and his new partner would soon clash and destroy what ever resemblance of normal he had come to accommodate.

"No, you stay. I'll check it out," Harry began pulling Michael back to bed before beginning to get up himself. Michael however shook his head, glowering at his new found lover.

"No, if you go out there, I do too." Harry sighed, knowing that nothing would keep Michael where he was, his friend was simply too stubborn and destructive. Harry nodded and went to get out of bed when the door to the bedroom burst open, the last person he ever expected to be standing there, wand at the ready, the tips of his ears already turning as red as his beautiful hair.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: **Friend of Mine  
**Author: **Drusilla Williams  
**Rating: **M/R+  
**Pairing: **Harry/Ron, Harry/Crossover and Implied Ron/Hermione  
**Warnings:** Angst  
**Summary: **Set after _Boyfriend_, Harry and Ron face each other after their falling apart.  
**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter. I make no profit from writing this. No copyright infringement intended.  
**Author's Note: **As always, a song inspires. For chapter two, it's New Found Glory's cover of _I Promise.  
_

* * *

**Friend of Mine**

_I'm sorry, but I'm just thinking of the right words to say.  
I know they don't sound the way I planned them to be.  
But if you wait around a while, I'll make you fall for me,  
I promise, I promise you I will..._

New Found Glory – I Promise (Cover)

**Chapter Two**

The sight before him was something he never thought he'd ever see. In fact, the idea hadn't crossed his mind, how close they might have gotten. He just honestly couldn't see Harry doing anything with anybody but him. Yet Harry had proved him wrong, just like he always had. Hermione was right, Harry had let go, so why couldn't he?

He lowered his wand, staring at the two who simply sat there, as much at a loss for words as he was. Harry's new partner, Michael if he remembered correctly, obviously could tell that he wasn't just somebody who busted into the apartment for which Ron was grateful to but that didn't change anything. Harry had sex with this man. Harry made love to this man and _not him_.

"Fuck," Ron groaned, turning around and slamming the door on them to retreat to the sitting room to pace for a while. Would he talk to Harry again, demand his shirt and his heart back, he didn't know. He didn't have the right to just barge into Harry's life like this again. Hermione had been right. It was about time Ron started to listen to the woman.

* * *

"Merlin," Harry simply whispered as he now stared at the shut door. He repeated the whisper over and over a few times, gripping at the sheets in front of him, still trying to process what had happened. Ron had barged in, had seen him with Michael. Ron was back. Ron who he hadn't seen or contacted in a year. Because he had let him go. He had moved on, just like Ron had, or that's what Harry had thought. Had he been wrong? Had Ron not moved on? After all, wasn't the last thing he said, albeit to an answering machine but still, "I love you, Harry"?

"Harry? Harry?" The hand on his shoulder shaking him brought him back to reality and Harry jumped out of bed, grappling at the floor for clothes, something to cover himself. "Harry, who the fuck is that?"

"Ron," Harry said quickly, finally getting his hands on a pair of sweats, Michael's, but he didn't care and quickly pulled them on, tripping over the long pants legs and hitting the ground with a thump.

"Yeah, and who the fuck is Ron, Potter?" Michael asked angrily, watching Harry pull the pants up to his waist and jump back up, now reaching for a shirt.

"My ex," Harry whispered and immediately knew that Michael understood. Ron was Michael's Maria, just was Maria was Harry's Ron. Michael nodded and stood.

"Do you want me to leave? I can get out for a few hours, go stay over at Fly's or Steve's or Monk's place for a bit." Harry shook his head, pulling the shirt over his head and grabbing at his glasses.

"No. Just give me a few minuets with him out there."

"Harry, if I'm right and that's who I think that is, you're going to need more than a few minuets. Just give me a minuet and I'm gone. Remember, I always have to be on the move," he stated with a wink as pulled out clothes and put them on.

"Thanks Michael, you're the best mate a guy could ask for," Harry whispered softly. Michael smiled, buttoning up his jeans before he reached over and pulled Harry to him, kissing his forehead gently.

"Hey, it's cool. You'd do the same thing for me. Besides, if you two can work it out, maybe that means I've got a shot with my," he paused, swallowing the spit in his mouth before he gave another cocky grin and pulled away, pulling on a shirt. "Anyways, you've got my number. Call me and tell me when you want me to move out."

"Michael-"

"No Harry. I get it. And these past months have been fucking awesome, you're great and I'm sure if I stay any longer, you'll turn me into a full fledged gay, not that there's anything wrong with that. I just need to get mine back, just like you will in a few hours, just like you're supposed to. As my old buddy Max used to say, _it's destiny_." And with that, Michael grabbed his jacket, kissed Harry's lips one last time and left.

* * *

The guy had left a few minuets earlier, sending Ron a death glare which meant he would be in trouble if he left Harry shattered on the floor again. Ron knew to take the threat seriously and sat patiently waiting for Harry to come out of the bedroom. But it was taking to long for Ron's taste. What was he doing in there? Obviously he was going to stay with Michael, he wasn't going to take Ron back and was that was he, Ron, was hoping for?

"Shit." Yes, it was. Ron came here in hopes that Harry would take him back. Ron would do anything, beg, grovel, sink on his knees and cry for Harry's forgiveness. He would tell him everything. Tell him about that stupid one night he spent with Hermione after getting into a huge fight about nothing with Harry almost two years ago and how it ended with Hermione pregnant. He would tell him that he still loved him, had loved him forever, since the first moment he had laid eyes on him. He would hold him, and kiss him, and make love to him again if he could because Harry was all Ron ever wanted in life.

But what if Harry wouldn't listen? What if Harry kicked him out and flaunted how happy he was with that tool Michael, because that's what the big douche looked like, a tool. Then again Harry had every right, after how Ron had treated him, after how Ron had left. But if there was a chance, Ron would take it. He didn't care about the shirt he left or Michael or Hermione or anyone else, except maybe his daughter, just Harry. He only cared about Harry.

So he sat and he waited; his head in his hands, hunched over, shoulders shaking and eyes watering as he hiccupped short breaths and sobs. And finally after ten more minuets of thinking that Harry never wanted to speak, see, or hear from Ron again, the bedroom door opened and Harry stepped out, looking flushed, cheeks and eyes red, in clothes that were too big for him and still Ron thought that Harry was the most beautiful thing he had ever had the privilege to lay eyes on.

"Ron?" he whispered, his voice soft yet so Harry, exactly as Ron remembered and for a moment Ron pictured himself getting up from the couch and sweeping Harry into his arms, kissing him, wiping away his tears and whispering sweet nothings into his ear.

But he simply couldn't do it. So instead he sat up, gave a small, sad, crooked smile and laughed "Yeah, it's me," while his voice cracked and his eyes leaked more tears that he didn't even have the right to shed.

Harry took a step forward and crossed his arms, looking around the room that had changed so much since Ron had left. The walls were covered with posters again, muggle. The mantle had pictures of him and his new friends, bowling, playing pool, foosball, and other games. The coffee table had TV guides, and magazines, and books from Michael's studies. The small black and white TV that they had bought together was currently sitting on the floor of the closet, now replaced by a bigger, color TV.

Harry noticed that Ron had taken in these changes too. He sighed and looked back at him. "Why are you here? After all this time, why is now you decide to come here?" Harry asked, his voice cracking as he tried to force out the words, tried to make them sound angry but failing miserably.

Ron shrugged, looking down at his clasped hands. "I wanted my shirt back," he mumbled.

"What?" Harry asked, surprised and now annoyed. That was why he came back? For his stupid, bright orange Chudley Cannons shirt which clashed horribly with his hair? "You're shirt? That's why you came back?"

"Well I-"

"Save it!" Harry turned around, going back to the room and extracting the shoebox from the top shelf, the dust that had settled there shifting and wafting out in clouds from being jerked. He returned to the sitting room and opened the box, throwing the top on the ground in anger as he pulled out the shirt, disrupting the neat organization inside, and threw it at Ron. "There you have it." He took the sock that had been left behind and chucked it at him, doing the same with the other items that crowded the box. "There's the sock you left, there's the snitch from the first game we played together, here are some pictures, no use for them here, they move." He stopped, walked over to Ron and turned the box over his head, the ticket stubs raining down on him, covering his hair, his shirt, his pants, and the couch. "All the ticket stubs from every movie we saw together. You know what, just keep the box too." He dropped the box, hitting Ron on the head and landing in his lap. "Everything. Every last thing I had of you, it's yours now to do with ever you want. Keep it, burn it, rip it to shreds, whatever. I don't care. _I don't care anymore_."

He took a step back and huffed angrily, his eyes narrow and wild and watery, tears threatening to spill over and run down his already tear stained cheeks. "Just take it all and get out. It's what you're good at!" he spat, his fists clenching.

Ron sat silently turning over the ticket stubs and pictures in his hands, finding them to be in top condition, perfect, whole, and cared for. Harry had kept everything, had taken care of everything and had obviously kept it close to his heart. And Ron had ripped it all apart by muttering the wrong thing. He always said the wrong thing at the worst possible time. "Well? Get out! You got what you came for so just go and leave me be!" Harry cried angrily, pointing at the door.

"No," Ron whispered, looking up at Harry. "I didn't come for the bloody shirt, you know that Harry."

"What do I know?" Harry yelled, stepping back and wrapping his arms around himself, gripping at his sides, trying to hold himself together as his eyes went wild and finally the tears pored over. "What the fuck do I know about you Ron? I don't know anything. Everything was lie! What we had was a lie! You didn't care about me! Did you ever? I was just a trophy for you! Something you could parade around! You, the sacred best mate of me, famous Harry fucking Potter! That's all I ever was to you! A fucking trophy!" Harry yelled. "But you got tired of me! You left! You fucked me and left!"

Ron shook his head and stood up, reaching out to Harry who stumbled backwards, shaking his head. "That's not true Harry. I love you, you know I love you. I never treated you as a trophy," he whispered as Harry shook his head and stumbled backwards as Ron began to advance again. Finally Harry backed into a wall and there was no where to go and Ron was able to touch him again. Touch his face, feel the warm, wet skin there and hold on. He stepped forward, closing the distance, both hands resting on Harry's cheeks, wiping at the tears found there, and holding, holding him there so Ron could take him in; take him all in. "I love you. If you can't believe anything else, please believe that. I'll tell you everything. Why I left, why I acted the way I did. I'll give you everything, all of me. Merlin Harry, it's been so hard. I've wanted to see you, touch you, kiss you."

"Well then you shouldn't have left!" Harry cried angrily, now pushing weakly at Ron's chest as if to try and fend him off. Ron nodded and pressed his forehead to Harry who shook his in protest. "No! You can't do this! You're not aloud too! You left me!"

"I did. I did leave and I'm so sorry Harry. You'll never know how sorry I am, but give me a chance. Please Harry. You always did before." Harry shook his head, closing his eyes, not looking at him because he knew if he did, he'd give in, and he couldn't. It was too late.

Ron didn't pay attention however and proceeded to kiss Harry's brow, his cheeks, his lips, though Harry made no move to respond. He removed Harry's glasses and kissed his eyelids, his jaw, his neck, his nose. He sank down on his knees and hugged Harry's middle and whispered and begged and wept. He buried his head in Harry's shirt, inhaling his scent, now mixed with Michael's but he didn't care.

"I hate you," Harry wept, shaking his head and Ron looked up, stunned. "I hate that you can still make me feel like this! You shouldn't have this much control over me. I let you go. I promised myself."

"Harry."

"It's not right Ron. This relationship is so fucked up. It's not healthy. It's not good. It's wrong." Ron shook his head, tightening his hold on Harry, pressing his nose into the fabric of his shirt, inhaling. "It is."

"Then I'll make it better. We'll start over." Harry looked up at the ceiling, feeling Ron's arms around him and it felt right.

**The End**


End file.
